A Woman In Want of a Pip
by Carlyn Roth
Summary: Tom Paris finds something of the captain's, so he and B'Elanna use the opportunity to nudge their command team closer together. Written for Prixin Prompt Comp 2017 in response to Helen8462's story "The Pip."


**A/N:** Written for Prixin Prompt Comp 2017 using prompt #6— _B'Elanna and Tom have an idea for a new holonovel that they hope might encourage the Captain and Commander to lax their protocols._

Many thanks to Helen for the inspiration, MiaCooper for the push, Talsi for the prompt, and (of course) Paramount and Jane Austen for their brilliant works which gave voice to this short fic.

If you haven't read Helen8462's fic "The Pip" already, do so before you read this one.

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 **A Woman In Want of a Pip**

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It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a secret stash of Antarian cider must be in want of a wife.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering the command structure, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding officers, that he is considered the rightful property of his captain.

"'I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.'" Tom Paris shifted his eyes away from the PADD in his hand so that he could meet the gaze of his wife as the pair made their way down the corridor towards the mess hall. "If that doesn't work, I don't know what will."

B'Elanna Torres shot him a skeptical look. "Don't you think that's a little on the nose?"

Tom snorted. "Well, of course it's on the nose! After six years of being oblivious to the truth that's right in front of them, it seems to me that they need something on the nose."

For the past week, the couple had been scheming together with the sole purpose of convincing Voyager's command team that they deserved to have the same happiness Tom and B'Elanna found with each other. Yet, they simply could not seem to agree on a single idea.

"Well, although this _Pride and Prejudice_ of yours sounds like something the captain would like," B'Elanna concluded, "I can tell you right now that Chakotay won't be interested in a holonovel like that."

Their conversation was brought to an abrupt halt when, upon entering the mess hall, the repulsive nature of the smell in the air rendered both of their faces contorted with disgust. "I'll just go see what's for breakfast," Tom offered, and B'Elanna nodded before snatching the PADD from his grasp and moving off to claim the table furthest from the galley's offensive scent.

Slipping behind the counter to stand in front of the simmering, steaming stock pot perched atop an active burner, Tom peered over the lip and down at the mysterious brown stew that bubbled inside. He dreaded the inventory of ingredients Neelix could have possibly included—the oddball Talaxian was constantly yo-yoing back and forth on his preferred palate of alien flavors—and yet his curiosity got the better of him. He lifted his hand, reaching for the ladle—

"Ah! Good morning, Mister Paris!" came the startling greeting of Voyager's chef as he rounded the corner of the pantry behind his galley, three spice bottles held in each hand. Tom jerked his arm back instantly, attempting to cover his intended motion by casually bringing his own hand to his neck to scratch at a phantom itch, and inadvertently knocking a pip off of his collar.

"Looking for some breakfast before your shift?" Neelix inquired, too distracted by his culinary artisanship to pay any heed to the other man's body language.

Tom cleared his throat and laughed nervously as his eyes quickly swept over the floor beneath him. "That's exactly what I was doing, Neelix. What's on the menu today?"

 _There!_ Just under the toe of his boot, he caught the glint of light reflected from the tiny brass insignia. Quickly, he scooped it up and stuffed it in his pocket.

"I have a very special Ch'karthan-style vegetable hash," the Talaxian answered, serving up two plates and thrusting them at Tom.

"Looks great," the helmsman offered with a friendly smile. "Is the coffee fresh?"

"Yes, it is. I made it for the captain less than five minutes ago. Would you like me to bring some to your table?"

"Could you, Neelix? B'Elanna and I would really appreciate that."

Somewhere, in the few seconds that had passed during their interaction, Tom forgot entirely about his pip. It wasn't until he and B'Elanna were standing outside the turbolift on deck two, saying their customary good-byes before parting ways, that it was brought up at all.

"Unless you've forgotten to tell me something important, I believe you might be missing a pip, Lieutenant," she teased.

His eyes widened at the memory her observation had jogged, and he immediately fished the runaway rank-pin out of his pocket. "I knocked it off earlier when I was talking with Neelix," he explained as he held it out to her in his open palm. "Do you mind?"

Her mouth quirked into that adorable, crooked smile she gave him whenever he did something she found irresistibly cute. When she lifted the pip to his collar, however, her expression twisted into confusion. "Uh, Tom? This isn't yours."

He drew his eyebrows together as she turned the solid brass insignia towards him. "Huh, I'll be damned. I guess I wasn't the only one worrying over that stew Neelix was working on." B'Elanna gave him a questioning look, but he shook his head. "It's probably still on the floor in the galley. I'll look for it at lunch. I wonder who this one belongs to."

B'Elanna shrugged and whipped out the tricorder on her hip. "Let's find out. Surely, one of us can get it back to its rightful owner."

Approaching the nearest computer console, B'Elanna called up a crew manifest search and inputted the ID number that she had scanned on the pip. Almost instantly, the database spit out its match—Captain Kathryn Janeway. The engineer pressed it into her husband's hand. "That'll be you."

Tom flipped his fist over and uncurled his fingers, epiphany and mischief crossing his face as he gazed down at the object in his flattened palm. "No," he said, realizing the shiny, brass-colored opportunity that gleamed in his hand. "This is even better than the holonovel."

"What do you mean?"

Tom grinned at his wife wickedly. "Suppose we didn't give it back to the captain. What would you say if we were to leave it somewhere questionable, and then forget we ever found it?"

The same smile began curving its way up her lips. "I know just the place."

-0-

The next morning, Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay arrived together to the staff meeting, suspiciously on-time. It was neither their custom to be anything less than five minutes early, nor to arrive at the same time after coming straight from the turbolift.

Not only were they simultaneously behind schedule, but Tom noticed something else amiss, as well—an entirely new bounce in both their steps. And, even more telling than that, neither one could stop grinning at each other.

Tom shot a knowing look to B'Elanna, who answered with a wry smile and a shrug.

There was no more for Tom and B'Elanna to do. If their suspicions proved true, then Chakotay deserved Kathryn, for it meant that he had taken the little brass bait that they left for him, buried in his bedsheets. The crew could not have relinquished their captain to anyone less worthy.

Surely, even Chell would agree with that—despite the fact that Tom's blunder had caused him a nasty toothache when the unfortunate Bolian, slurping Neelix's stew, bit down on the helmsman's missing pip.

The truth, Tom realized, was that when a woman stranded in the Delta Quadrant found herself in want of a pip, holonovel characters simply wouldn't do. That truth, once fixed in her mind, brought to light the feelings of a man who had long considered himself the rightful property of his beloved captain.

All in all, a pip was a rather small price to pay for their command team's incandescent happiness.


End file.
